(WARNING: Might be superdy-duper long. It’s going on span of time)
*Four years earlier*
Before you could do anything, you felt the airbag activate as your car was slammed into by a big pick-up truck. Your forehead hits something hard, and you feel it start to bleed. You sit there to collect yourself, and you hear somebody cursing under his breath. A car door slams, and footsteps reach your side. You don’t hear anything else, so you slowly open your eyes to see brown ones staring back at you.
There’s no doubt this kid’s scared for his life. He probably just crashed his father’s new truck. You would be reacting the same way if you saw the damage to both the other person’s car and his or her head.
You check to see if the door will open. When it does, you get out slowly, knowing that it will hurt after the impact.
"I am so sorry! Are you okay?" You immediately hear the Canadian accent when he apologizes. Why would somebody from Canada be in North Carolina?
"I should be. The only thing that hurts is my forehead," you mumble as you sit on the curb.
He rushes back to his truck and grabs something before coming back and placing a napkin against your forehead. You go to reach up and take over, but he gently takes your hand and puts it back at your side. His phone starts to ring from his pocket, and he answers it while still taking care of you.
"Hello? Hey Drayson…I’m going to be running a little late. I got into an accident…can you please just tell coach that I’m going to be late and I’ll explain later? Thanks."
He puts his phone back in his pocket and sighs when he hears the sirens approaching. He pulls the napkin away and frowns.
"You’re going to need stitches," he comments.
"Great," you groan.
"I am so, so, SO sorry about this. I promise I’ll pay for everything," he tells you.
"Don’t you mean your parents will?" you ask.
"Not if I can help it. I’m the one that caused this; I’ll fix it."
"Excuse me? I’m Sergeant Wilkinson. Can one of you please explain to me what happened?" an officer asks.
"It was completely my fault. I was speeding to get to hockey practice on time, and I ran the stop sign. I hit her car while she was turning," the kid explains.
You were shocked; you never thought he would own up to his mistake. With an expensive truck that, you expected him to blame it on you so that you would pay for everything. Then again, he promised to pay for your car’s damage.
"I thought I knew your face! My daughter’s a huge fan of you," Sergeant Wilkinson says while holding out his hand.
"Really? How old is she?" the kid asks.
"She’s only four. I’ve been teaching her hockey, and when she saw your face, she fell in love. I-"
"Hello? Hi. I’d hate to break this up, but I have to get to class in-" you check the time on your phone, "-ten minutes, and it’s a twenty minute drive."
From there, the two of you were questioned, and a report was filed. You exchanged numbers and insurances, and then you were driven to your class while he was off to practice.
The same night, he called to make sure you were okay. When you told him that the after effects were kicking in - sore back, throbbing head from the stitches you received on the scene - and he apologized a numerous amount of times. When he found out your car was totaled, he offered to buy you a new one. You finally asked him how he would be able to do that, and he finally told you that he played for the Carolina Hurricanes. He then told you that his name was Jeff Skinner, so your friend looked him up since she was over. She told the others, and they freaked out. You thought he was cute, but you didn’t think anything would happen between you two. Then he asked you out on a date. Your friends brainwashed you into thinking that you should date him for his money. You never got to say anything as they fired ideas at you about how you could use his money. You finally agreed on going on a date with him.
